5 year old me was not prepared for Mr Toilet Man in Look Who's Talking.
Love it! Thanks for the recc.
The BBC tends to emulate NHS writing guidelines for patient education materials when they're covering health topics. The standard is to use very plain language with a reading level of a 10 year old to make the information accessible.
Seriously, he was sent to his country of origin fairly quickly. And now he's feeling sorry for himself instead of the people dying of medical neglect in detention centres and being shipped off to a fucking Venezuelan labour camp.
It says "product contains plastic". The pictogram is telling you not to flush it (or otherwise improperly dispose of it) so it doesn't go out to sea and kill a turtle.
I had an assignment to write a short story when I was 11. Since I'd been reading too much Stephen King I decided to make it a horror story about a possessed doll in a family's attic. My teacher marked me down because it was "tense and disturbing", as if that wasn't what I was trying to achieve.
It's not just the workplaces, it's the housing. I don't want people driving to work sleep deprived after they've struggled to sleep in a hot bedroom all night. Especially not en masse.
My internal monologue is constant. Unless I'm using my language processing capacity for something else (e.g. listening to a podcast or reading text) then my brain is full of verbal diarrhoea. I'll count each step on my way up a staircase just to fill the dead air in my head.
Dunno if I'm "people" but adding broccoli or cauliflower slaps.
I hope that this time round everyone understands what glassing someone means.
When I worked in memory care I found that the easiest way was to play along. I had co-workers that did their training decades before I did and they were largely attached to "reorientation in time", which is a nice way of saying confronting their delusions, and it was just upsetting for everyone.
I don't want to tell Doris her husband isn't actually late coming back from the shops, or that her parents aren't coming to pick her up, or that she doesnt need to pick up her small children from school. Wouldn't you get upset if some random stranger insisted that your spouse, who you remember waking up next to that day, died ten years ago? Or if that random 50 year old stranger insisted that they were actually your small child that you definitely dropped off at school that morning?
Unfortunately humans aren't capable of experiencing objective reality. Instead everything gets filtered through our brains, which even in a totally healthy state still can't help but filter reality through a layer of subjectivity. Personally I'd pick being lied to every day over being told my life has already passed me by every day.
It's definitely a thing for women. I'm only in my 30s and I've gotten backhanded comments from other women about how bold my make-up is, how short my shorts are, how much cleavage I'm showing, etc. etc.
"Aren't you getting a little old for spaghetti straps?"
"How brave! I haven't worn a playsuit since my 20s."
"If I wore those platforms I'd feel like mutton dressed as lamb."
It's pitiful more than anything. Far too many women my age seem convinced they're already decrepit, old hags. And far too comfortable dragging the rest of us down with them.
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